


Sit on the windowsill with me

by brothebro



Series: Prompt fills [1]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Beefy Jaskier | Dandelion, Established Relationship, Geralt beds the wrong person, Multi, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, Promiscuity, Prompt Fill, Tank Jaskier | Dandelion, secret reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 15:53:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30125190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brothebro/pseuds/brothebro
Summary: Of all the women in the town, he had to stumble upon the one with a monogamous and incredibly possessive husband. Not that it’s a bad thing, monogamy, but in these situations it sure is inconvenient.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: Prompt fills [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2217042
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26





	Sit on the windowsill with me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CassandrasDreamworld](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CassandrasDreamworld/gifts).



> enjoy :3

Geralt isn’t used to finding himself in this particular situation. Countless days he had passed mocking his friend, and oftentimes lover, Jaskier about literally this exact thing. 

_ Oh, how the tables have turned _ , as Yenn would say in that sexy smug tone of hers. 

No matter. The thing is Geralt is no Jaskier and definitely no Yennefer either, but he, too, enjoys the pleasures of the flesh. Usually - and because it’s safer that way- when he’s away from his lovers and he seeks out a warm embrace and a pleasant night he beelines to the closest brothel. 

Usually, there is hardly any risk involved. 

Usually. 

As he hangs from the uppermost windowsill of the three-story house of the lovely, and apparently  _ very married, _ lady that approached him last night in the tavern and her definitely terrifying beast of a husband and his friends throw things on him, Geralt silently curses his luck. 

Of all the women in the town, he  _ had  _ to stumble upon the one with a monogamous and incredibly possessive husband. Not that it’s a bad thing, monogamy, but in these situations it sure is inconvenient. 

“This is hilarious,” Yennefer’s voice sounds from somewhere beneath him. 

“You say that until it happens to you Yenny,” Jaskier pouts --at least it sounds like it-- “But I do agree with you, it is very very funny.”

Geralt swallows his pride and decides at that moment --even if he’ll never hear the end of it-- to ask his lovers for help, as another stray --is that a lamp?-- misses him a hair’s width. 

“Yenn, portal me out of here. Please!” he shouts. 

“Just jump, Geralt,” she says disinterested, “Jaskier will catch you.”

“Are you--”

“Jump,” Jaskier says in a commanding voice. He sounds so bloody sure of himself that has Geralt thinking that maybe- maybe they plan on portalling him out of there and this is all part of their plan to pester him further later. 

Oh, fuck it. He’ll accept any and all mocking. Hell, he’ll welcome it.

The lady’s husband is still yelling and throwing stuff at great speed and intensity and because Geralt does not want to die just yet, he takes the leap of faith and releases his grip on the windowsill. 

It takes a minuscule amount of time to reach the ground. Geralt lands in the embrace of two very large arms. 

Wait.

What…?

He reluctantly opens his eyes and his gaze meets his bard’s clean-shaven face. No way. No way the shorter than Geralt, lean beanpole of a bard has arms like these. He squeezes a bicep just to make sure that this isn’t one of Yennefer’s illusion and is surprised to feel little give. 

“Oh, no,” Yennefer says in a flat voice, “he broke.”

Jaskier sidesteps and hisses, Geralt still carried princess-style on his arms, as yet another knick-knack lands next to him. 

“No time,” he says, “Portal, chop-chop.”

“Try again,” Yennefer hums amused. 

“Please,” Jaskier shouts. 

“ _ Fine.”  _

In the seconds that pass for the portal to devour them whole and spit them out in Yennefer’s house in Vengerberg Geralt runs every possible scenario through his brain to explain just  _ how  _ Jaskier is able to carry him, a big muscly witcher, without breaking a sweat. 

Nothing prepares him for the answer. 

“Ugh, portals suck,” Jaskier complains, his face a sickly white colour, and he moves to lay Geralt on the couch. 

It’s then that Geralt takes a good look at his bard. The man, somehow, during the winter they spent apart grew a good foot and a half in height and apparently took up either blacksmithing as a hobby or wrestling. There’s no other plausible explanation. Geralt swallows audibly and feels warmth pooling in his breeches. 

“Mmm, the look on our witcher’s face is priceless. It was right not to tell him,” Yennefer smirks and pours wine on three identical goblets that she has lined up on a countertop. 

“Not tell me what?” Geralt asks mildly angry for a secret kept purposefully from him.

“Oh, well… you see…” huge-Jaskier gestures animatedly in a very Jaskier manner, “That my mum is a giant? And that I was well overdue a second growth spurt?”

“What?”

“My mum -”

“I heard you the first time.”

“Geralt are you mad at me- at us?” Jaskier worries at his lower lip. “I really didn’t think that I’d grow any taller, at age 55 of all things, so I thought it didn’t matter if-”

“It’s alright. We’re good.” He is a bit unnerved about this whole thing, sure, a bit angry at his lovers, but at the end of the day, he knows them. Knows how childish both can be -especially Jaskier- so he vows silently to give himself time to adjust to this development.

One thing is sure though, all three of them have a lot to explore in bed now. 

**Author's Note:**

> Fill free to send me prompts over at [Tumblr](https://broskier.tumblr.com/)  
> I promise to get to them at some point <3


End file.
